


Invisible People

by TruebornAlpha



Series: Space Oddities Season 1: [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Kidnapping, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Physical Disability, Science Fiction, Sciles, Slow Burn, Snark, Space Opera, slow burn Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski, space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:03:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7284709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles, the intrepid mechanic of the good ship, Behemoth, has found his way back to Alpha 16. This time the rickety old space station feels like a breath of fresh air, all because of its cryptic bartender, Scott. Yet something is amiss on Alpha 16. The war between the Galactic Government and the Resistance has displaced countless peoples. As more and more refugees flood in, more and more mysteriously disappear.</p><p>Or, that Sciles Space AU! This is a stand-alone episode and you can read it without reading any others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Season 1: Episode 2

The Behemoth rattled as it slowed, the ancient cargo ship shuddering under the strain of its thrusters. They worked better now, thanks to the crew’s newest mechanic, and Stiles was happy to take full credit for the repairs. A ship like this had a million broken or bypassed systems in desperate need of repairs, and he’d prove his worth just a few days into their journey by fixing the CO2 scrubbers and boosting life support efficiency on all decks. Captain Jjil was pleased with his work, as well they should be. Maybe next run, Stiles could even ask for a bonus.

Before them was Alpha 16, a rusty lump that barely qualified as a space station. Yet it had its charms, and the most appealing of them came in the form of a silver-tongued barkeeper that Stiles only knew as Scott. It also didn’t hurt that it was so far from the rest of civilization that the war between the Galactic Government and the Resistance barely touched it.

Metal scrapped against metal as the ship lurched into the airlock, the station’s heavy docking clamps closing around the Behemoth to lock it into place. Man, it was going to be awesome to finally take a break, even if it was temporary. All this time cooped up in a ship with the same people was enough to drive someone crazy, and Stiles was restless.

Throughout the whole trip, a bright smile and the memory of a warm bed was never far from his thoughts. Space travel didn’t seem as long when there was someone waiting for him to get back. At least he hoped that Scott remembered him. A few nights wasn’t much, but he liked to think he made an impression.

Air hissed as the pressure equalized and Stiles grabbed his bag, strutting into Alpha 16. It was late. The station lights had already dimmed and even the tent cities packed full of refugees were mostly quiet. They seemed bigger than the last time, more people crushing into every available pocket of space. He picked his way carefully through the makeshift tents with one destination on his mind: Aegis. If he was lucky, maybe Scott was just closing up for the night and he could show the bartender just how much he’d missed him.

Stiles was just in time. He turned the corner to find an all too familiar storefront, complete with faded awning. Someone was securing the entrance’s multilock, the same someone who’d been haunting Stiles’s dreams. He knew it was Scott the moment he laid eyes on him. From the mop of soft dark curls that curled around his ears to his snug pants that clung to legs that Stiles wanted to follow all night long, it was a mouth-watering package wrapped in easy confidence and pinned with a devious smile.

Stiles crossed the hall in a rush, reached out and grabbed Scott by the shoulder, mouth split open around a smile… And he got a face full of devil’s breath for his trouble. Then the screaming started.

“AHHHH!”

“AHHHH- STILES?! Stiles! Oh shit Stiles!”

Stiles’s bags hit the floor with a thud, but that didn’t matter because his entire face was on fire. All in all, Stiles thought their reunion could have gone better.

Ten minutes later, his face was mercifully numb and covered with a tacky, bright fuchsia gunk that came out of Scott’s expired first aid kit. Stiles was sprawled all over Scott’s couch, and Scott had finally stopped snickering. He tapped the tip of Stiles’s nose with an applicator stick, checking the consistency of his medicine. “And what were you thinking, seriously? In the middle of the night, too?”

The gunk had sealed Stiles’s mouth shut and his eyes closed. Scott was unabashedly taking advantage of it.

“You’re lucky it was just devil’s breath spray instead of an actual weapon. You’ve got to be careful out here at night, you could have been a predator!”

Stiles mmmf’d irritably.  _Predator? What was Scott even saying?_  He waved his hands, blind and mute, unable to snark back as Scott laughed at him. It was a nice laugh, but that didn’t make him want to smack Scott for it any less.

“Just let the cryofoam do its job. By the time it’s ready to peel off, there won’t even be any swelling.”

“SWWWNG?” Stiles tried to lurch off the sofa, but Scott gently pushed him back down.

“That’s what you get for jumping out at me in the dark.” Scott hands traced down the line of Stiles’s body, sliding down to his knees as he settled between them. “It might take a while and I can’t just leave you here blind. Maybe I could apologize for the mix up?”

 _Oh god_. Stiles nodded his head so hard he thought it might come off. It was like he was blindfolded, helpless under Scott’s hands that teased along his inner thighs. His legs trembled, shamelessly widening them with a muffled groan.

“Then just sit back and relax.” Scott said, low and husky. “Let me take care of you, Spacer. It’s the least I can do for ruining your pretty face.”

 _He thinks I’m pretty!_  It was the last coherent thought Stiles had before Scott’s fingers worked their way into his pants.

  
  


 

“You said there would be no swelling,” Stiles complained as he prodded gingerly his face.

Scott hushed him. “Next time don’t smack yourself on the coffee table. The foam can’t fix everything. Now quiet, it’s starting.”

He tightened his grip around Stiles’s waist from behind and hooked his chin over his shoulder. Stiles squirmed on principle, but he wasn’t trying very hard to get away, content to bury his face into the couch’s armrest.  _Next time_ , Scott said. There was going to be a next time! He almost felt like he was floating, on a cloud of pure self-satisfaction, and he scoffed a little as Scott’s floor-to-ceiling viewscreen lit up in technicolor. Gone were the alien sunsets and exotic landscapes he’d last scene on it. In their place was - “I can’t believe you watch this crap.”

Scott shushed him again, louder this time, and the intergalactic sitcom,  _Galactic Passions_  filled the length of his wall. Stiles had to squint. “You really need to rent your own room.”

“What? Scott, it didn’t even start-”

“Shh!”

Stiles tried to grumble, really he did, but Scott was incredibly warm, and he felt like he was all around him. The bartender whispered along with the recap of last episode, his breath tickling the shell of Stiles’s ear.

He’d thought Scott was attractive before, and he wasn’t going to deny how good that tight ass looked, but there was something incredibly charming about how his eyes lit up when the soap opera started and the way he chewed his lip anxiously. The bartender on Alpha 16 was some cool, suave, unreachable sex god and here he was, burying his bare toes under Stiles’s legs excitedly and whisper-pointing at the viewscreen whenever a new actor showed up.

Stiles knew he was in trouble before, but this was just way too much.

The show was terrible, some overly dramatic poorly acted crap that Scott loved. He could even see the Pylorgin’s prosthetic ears, the make-up was terrible. Every time that the golden-skinned Kerat romantic lead showed up, Scott let out a soft sigh and Stiles couldn’t keep himself from teasing.

“Shut up, he’s the best!”

“Scott, this literally hurts me.”

“I’m gonna literally hurt you if you don’t stop talking.”

Stiles gave up and settled in, just enjoying the afterglow and the warm weight of the man beside him. It was a feeling he could get used to, terrible taste in broadcast programs and all. 

One second bled into a thousand more and a thousand after that, until wiggly, prodding fingers jabbed into Stiles’s armpit. “Noooo…”

“Let go, Stiles.” The bartender sounded far too chipper and far too amused, and Stiles tried to convey just how awful he was through grunts and snorts alone. Then Scott had the audacity to tear Stiles’s pillow away, a pillow which seemed to be rather attached to the rest of Scott.  _Huh_. “We really need to get you your own room.”

“Where are you going?” Stiles tried to say, but it had too many syllables, and he was sure he missed a few. If anything, he made Scott chuckle, and suddenly their were gentle fingers combing through his hair. “Work?”

Scott kissed his brow then pulled at his ear, ignoring Stiles’s cry of protest. “Make sure to lock up when you leave.”


	2. Chapter 2

Little had changed on Alpha 16 since the last time Stiles had been here. The walls were just as rusty, the floors just as smeared with years of unidentifiable grease that may have once upon a time been cleaning fluids. The press of people in the main corridors trying to sell everything they had or offer their skills for a job were the same. Or almost the same. There was a sort of tension in the air and even if Stiles didn’t know why, he could feel it. The refugee kids that had always been running underfoot were glumly shepherded over by watchful parents. People held themselves straighter. There was the flash of more weapons strapped to people’s hips.

With so many refugees from so many parts of the galaxy, it was no wonder that tempers flared when everyone was crammed into a place like this with no way off. Still, Stiles carefully picked his way through the throng and towards the hostel that offered rooms only for paying customers to keep out the ‘trash.’ It was a higher rate than the last time, the owner refusing to let any refugees into the building, but it beat his tiny cubbyhole on the Behemoth that was barely large enough to fit a mattress.

Stiles flopped back on his rented bed and sighed. Okay, so this was boring. Alpha 16 wasn’t known for its entertainment, but there had to be something worth doing on this heap for the next few days. Speaking of, Scott should have settled into Aegis by now. Stiles decided he could use a lunch break. Too many hours of uninterrupted sleeping tired him out.

He let himself wonder about how serious Scott had been regarding the whole ‘get your own room’ thing. It wasn’t like he lived with anyone, and Stiles could afford to pay rent now. He’d even throw in a few more cred to savor Scott’s cooking. It was only for a few days anyway, and Stiles could be convincing. Super convincing. He could definitely get Scott up for the occasion, multiple times even.

Now Stiles really didn’t want to waste his time in a dinky cabin. There was a skip in his step, not unlike what he got when his leg fell asleep, but Stiles was nearly overwhelmed by the urge to whistle. He was so engrossed in his, frankly quite gross, daydreams that he didn’t realize he was on a crash course until it was too late. Then there was no turning back.

Rusted metal and loose nugs rained from the sky, and Stiles came face to face with a furious, bushy-haired, bug-eyed alien. Then she took of her anti-glares specs, and Stiles realized that the human was just covered in a whole lot of grease and was also wearing the thickest pair of anti-glares he’d ever seen outside of a museum.

“Watch where you’re going!” She snapped, looking him over with unbridled disdain. He was exactly the sort of spacer her parents warned her about. 

Stiles’s willingness to argue with children would always surprise him. “Me?! You’re the one who bumped into me! Can you even see in those things?”

“I can see that you’re a-”

“Hayden!”

She scowled but quieted, before falling to her knees without any self-consciousness to pick up her goods. And, well, Stiles wasn’t a complete ass.

By the time Hayden’s companion showed up, she and Stiles had gathered almost everything. If she wasn’t Hayden’s twin, the woman had to be her clone. The resemblance was uncanny.

“Sorry, sir.” The woman said, her hands clearly full with reigning in her sister’s behavior. “Say sorry, Hayden.”

“Don’t stand in the middle of the hallway like an idiot.” The younger woman huffed as her sister murmured another apology and trailed after Hayden. Stiles could hear them arguing until they were swallowed up in the crowd and shook his head. As if he needed another reason never to procreate.

He almost bounced into Aegis, swinging himself up on one of the barstools with a terrible pickup line halfway out before he noticed the smiling face over the counter had too many sharp teeth to be Scott. The bright aqua skin was sort of a giveaway too.

“Uh…” He said eloquently, trying to recover his charm. “Is Scott around?”

Byex chattered in amusement, she’d seen plenty of Scott’s devotees over the years. Her boss had a way with people, sometimes he didn’t know exactly how well his powers could work sometimes. Though if this scrawny human was the latest toy, Scott’s taste was declining. Humans were all so breakable, if someone didn’t have at least six limbs, they weren’t worth a second look. She also knew just how to handle the ones that were too nosy. “It’s his day off today, he’s not here.”

“Day off?” Stiles sat back like he’d been personally insulted. Scott wasn’t allowed a day off, he’d said he’d be here! Sort of. Damn it. “You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, do you?”

“On his day off.” Byex said again, flashing her fangs. “Though I’m sure I can help you, sir. Is there something I can get for you?”

Stiles gulped and jumped off the stool before that polite smile tried to take a bite of him. “Nope, I’m good. Thanks though, maybe I’ll be back later.”

She winked two of her eight eyes and Stiles retreated. Now this was a mystery and Stiles could never resist playing detective. Alpha 16 wasn’t a big space station, he should be able to track down one missing bartender.

Stiles made a beeline for all the places that no one would want to be seen first. Scott’s life looked a little too neat to be sharing space with a drug addiction or pushy loan shark. It wouldn’t hurt to check (as long as Stiles still remembered how to duck). Alpha 16 had its own little spot of black market trade. He spent the better part of an hour worming his way in and out of the worst corners of the space station and dodging curious bouncers with too many fists and even more muscles. Scott was nowhere to be found.

Stiles skipped through the public docking bays, the hall to Scott’s apartment, and through a gaggle of very, very lost tourists in the mess hall, until his feet felt like they were going to fall off. Eventually, he found himself in the middle of the grocery, resting his head against an ice box and staring unseeingly at the head of a frozen Aki. Now Stiles wanted barbecue.

He banged his head once, twice against the display case. It worked as well as magic.

“Are you following me?”

Stiles turned so quickly, his head kept going, but Scott was still standing in front of him when the ground stopped spinning.

“Heyyyyy, Scotty.” Stiles drawled, totally cool. He  _was_  cool, he just had to keep believing it. Scott rolled his eyes and for once, he didn’t look entirely pleased. Stiles thought quickly, wondering if he’d miscalculated things so badly. “Sorry, it was just an accident. I stopped by Aegis and when you weren’t there, I thought I might do some exploring and then I got hungry and…” His voice trailed away as Scott’s disapproving look deepened.

“This is my day off, Stiles. It’s the one day I have to myself.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I promise, I had no idea you were going to be here.”

Scott sighed. Stiles honestly didn’t know why he looked so annoyed. With a shrug that stank of defeat, Scott held out the bags he was carrying. “Fine. If you’re going to be here, then you might as well make yourself useful and carry something. I need to get these up on deck 12. I’ve brought most of the stuff already, but I always like to throw in something fresh if I can.”

“Fresh?” Stiles took the bags in confusion. “Wait, where are we going?”

“We’re going to make dinner, Stiles. And you’re going to help me.”

Stiles waited for the other shoe to drop. Scott  _could_ have meant dinner like an orgy with all his conveniently absent attractive friends Stiles hadn’t met yet with breaks for snacks. 

Scott did not mean that. 

Scott meant cooking, and not just any cooking.

A whole lot of cooking.

“Seriously, my arms are going to fall off.” Stiles grumbled, as he stirred the contents of a pot that was taller than his entire torso. It smelled positively sinful. Scott had commandeered it from the depths of Aegis’s kitchen, and taken it (and Stiles) to the lower sectors, along with as many groceries as they could carry and all the leftovers the bar was willing to give away. Stiles was distracted by how Scott’s arms flexed nicely when he lifted his burden, but he wasn’t too distracted to ignore how they’d found themselves in a makeshift food bank and pantry, right on the fringes of the biggest tent town on Alpha 16.

Scott hadn’t offered him an explanation. He’d just started cooking.

Stiles didn’t understand the cacophony of emotions that flickered across Scott’s face. Stiles was never sure if he’d catch a smile or a scowl on the bartender’s normally pleasant features, but he caught nervousness again and again. Stiles used to think that Scott’s patience was infinite, but today, it was finally wearing thin.

“The door’s right there, Stiles. No one asked you to be here.”

“I want to help, I’m not leaving.” He said cheerfully, and there was another flicker of  _something_  across Scott’s face. He couldn’t tell if the other man was glad he was there or wishing he’d turn around and leave. It was a calculated risk to stay, but Scott had become a mystery he needed to solve.

He couldn’t understand why it would be a big deal? He’d seen the way Scott acted with the refugees, it wasn’t a surprise he was trying to help. With the amount of leftovers from Aegis, it was clear they knew what Scott was doing, so it wasn’t some secret. And Scott moved through the ramshackle kitchen like he knew where everything was, obviously familiar with the space. He’d done this before, probably many times.

It still didn’t explain the way Scott was almost silent as they worked.

There was one thing that was crystal clear though, Scott was loved. People picking up their small bundles of food stopped to talk to him, and it was only then that Stiles saw his easy smile again. The tense, untrusting atmosphere that he’d noticed from the moment he’d stepped back onto the station seemed to lift like a fog around Scott.

The bartender paused in his chopping to hand a small package to a Wolveen in an aggressively yellow vest. He only looked to be a handful of years younger than they were, the young man’s face scruffy with fur, pointed ears perked and alert.

“Hey Scott, thanks. You need any help with this stuff?”

“Nah, I’m good, Liam. I have an extra set of hands this week.” Scott didn’t look at Stiles, but the spacer stood a little straighter and winked at the younger boy. Liam just blinked back, unimpressed. Damn kids.

“Thanks for this!”

“No problem. Try and stay out of trouble this week?”

Liam rolled his eyes like he’d heard the warning a thousand times. “I will.”

“I mean it.” Scott said, voice just a shave softer, but it was enough to give Liam pause.

The Wolveen shifted uncomfortably and looked away, but he mumbled, “Vihaan will be back.”

Scott didn’t disagree with him, but Stiles didn’t think that meant he believed Liam. A rippled of tension passed between them, and Stiles dutifully stirred his broth throughout. Then Liam politely touched Scott’s knuckles before he went. Stiles waited until the Wolveen was out of sight before he asked, “Who’s Vihaan?”

Scott laughed, but it was a bitter sound that jarred everything Stiles knew about him. Stiles wouldn’t forget it any time soon. He didn’t think he liked it very much. “Be glad that isn’t your problem, Spacer.”

Stiles didn’t think it was his imagination that made the silence feel more oppressive. They did good work. Eventually the line thinned and hungry mouths were fed, and Stiles found out what the bottom of his pot actually looked like. “Dude, this was a good day,” Stiles proclaimed, rather proudly. “Did you see how many people we got?”

Scott did not look as excited about that as Stiles would have assumed he’d be after a good day of work. He had a little half smile on his face, and Stiles quietly bit back an irrational surge of jealousy. If he’d been in line for a food package, he’d at least have gotten a more convincing version. He’d done the good guy thing for the whole day, and now Scott couldn’t even humor him. “All right, spill. What the Hell’s going on?”

Scott turned on him and scowled, but Stiles never got his answer. The shouting started.

“They took her, those grubworms took her!” The voices rose in a wail, an ugly undercurrent of rage as people spilled out of their tents. There was a mix of languages, all of them angry, and Stiles reflexively reached for a weapon that he no longer wore. Angry refugees filled the hallways to the sound of smashing glass and violent threats.

“They’ve taken my daughter!” One woman screamed. “She’s  _gone_ , Yelena’s gone.”

“Burn them out until we find her.”

“Kill the child thieves!”

“They’re selling us off, make them pay!”

“Oh god.” Scott whispered, abandoning the kitchen and plunging straight into the heart of the growing riot, and Stiles’s heart leaped into his throat.

“Scott, no!” 

They were going to kill him, Stiles knew it with a chilling certainty. They were hurting and angry, people pushed long passed their breaking point and demanding action for their pain. Scott had been swallowed in the chaos and was going to die, and there was nothing Stiles could do to save him.

The shrill sonic whistles of the station security cut through his skull and the entire crowd winced in pain before turning their violence on the security officers that tried to edge their way into the hallways. They swarmed the station’s guards, pulling them under and beating down the ones who refused to protect them.

Stiles had a split-second to think. He had a rapidly closing window of opportunity to leave relatively unscathed. No one would remember him, not after the brawl, and he always believed that the refugees through no fault of their own were already doomed.  _But Scott._ Someone had to help Scott.

He crept along the edges of the skirmish, stepping over unconscious bodies that had been thrown from the fight. When a guard came too close, the spacer didn’t hesitate to put him down, moving with well-practiced precision. Stiles plucked his photon pistol and shock baton from his belt before he fell. It only took seconds.

He had to get to Scott. The brawl was getting exacerbating. It was only a matter of time before someone called in reinforcements, and then it would only get worse for the refugees. They couldn’t get caught in the cross-fire.

Stiles thought he caught a familiar glimpse of dark hair, before a booming siren of the fire alarm echoed through the air, and the camp was covered in cooling foam. People looked up in startled confusion, and Stiles spotted Scott sneaking along the food bank. Their eyes met across the crowd, and without a word they made their escape, leaving simmering tempers and the hope that someone would regain control. Scott stopped only long enough to watch a senior officer arrive on site, her horns still raised aggressively, but the fighting didn’t resume.

They took off running, and they only stopped when there were two floors between them and the camp.

Stiles was breathing hard, but Scott didn’t even look winded. Stiles still found the strength to snarl, “What the Hell were you thinking? You go down there by yourself?!”

“I had it handled, Stiles.” Scott scowled and folded his arms across his chest. “I had to do something to stop it before anyone else got hurt.”

“And what if  _you_ got hurt?” Stiles found himself furious at Scott’s indifference. “Those people are dangerous, they’re about to come apart at the seams and if you’re caught in the middle of it-”

“Those people are victims of a war, and they’re just trying to find a way to survive!” The sudden anger startled Stiles into silence as Scott snarled in his face. “Those people aren’t dangerous, they’re struggling to hold on with nothing, they’re being treated like they’re nothing more than animals and someone is preying on them because they can’t fight back. So yeah, they’re _pissed off_  and they have every right to be.”

It took a moment before Stiles found his voice again, lip curled as he squared his shoulders for a fight. “I feel bad for them, but that doesn’t mean you should be down here, putting yourself in harm’s way for them.”

“This is my life! This, them, they’re all part of it!” Scott snapped and Stiles could swear Scott’s brown eyes caught the red of the emergency lights. “No one asked you to be here and I don’t need your help. You’re not my boyfriend, you’re not even my friend. You’re some guy I brought home and that’s it. You have no right to any of this, leave me alone.”

He spun on his heel and left Stiles standing in the middle of the hallway alone, half formed insult on his lips but missing his opportunity to use it before Scott slipped into the elevator lift and the doors closed.

Fuck.

That could have probably gone better.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles should have taken the hint. It was delivered with all the subtlety and ambiguity of a bullet to the brain. It was the reason he was holed up in his rented room, tucked into bed like he had been for the past twelve hours. His stomach was growling, but he was comfortable enough to pretend it wasn’t. Scott did not want to see him, probably wouldn’t ever again, and while the sex had been fantastic, it wasn’t enough to justify his wounded pride. He’d spent a whole day trying to help Scott, and it got him nowhere.

Because Scott didn’t need his help.

Scott, who was quick on his feet and incredibly resourceful, who might have been the best cook Stiles had ever met in space, who was endlessly kind and twice as generous and never expected anything in return except… his privacy.

Stiles turned over on his cot, scowling as he flicked on his viewscreen. It wasn’t as nice as Scott’s, but at least the poorer quality made the special effects of Galactic Passions look more realistic, and Stiles groaned, covering his face with his hands. He just couldn’t win. He wasn’t sure he wanted to anyway, not when the prospect of seeing Scott again made his heart skip a beat.

He owed him an apology, but beyond that, Stiles thought he was in a unique position to really make things right.

He made his first attempt at Aegis, but was openly disappointed to see Byex behind the counter. Her teeth clicked ever so slightly when she spoke, “What can I get you, Spacer?”

“I thought you said Scott’s day off was yesterday.” He blurted out, a little too impatient, and Stiles could almost feel the weight of every one of her eyes as she focused on him. He didn’t think she found what she was looking for.

There was a chilly nonchalance in her tone. It spread across her mouth in a mockery of a smile. “Did I? I guess I lied.”

Byex’s expression never wavered, but Stiles could see her eyes narrow. “If you’re not going to order something, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave, sir.” Her voice was cheerful, but Stiles glanced over at the bulky woman by the door who served as a bouncer and raised his hands in defeat.

“Fine, can you at least tell him I was here?” He slid out of the bar almost as quickly as he’d come, cursing his luck. He could try to track Scott down again, it wasn’t impossible, but after yesterday, he didn’t think that would be the best way to smooth things over. Confronting Scott face to face just seemed like it would cause more problems than it would solve, especially since he didn’t know exactly what to say. Spending time with the refugees was dangerous no matter what Scott said. Yeah, Stiles felt sorry for them, but they were desperate people and that led to crime and violence. Scott putting himself at risk to help them was noble in principle, but was going to make him a target. Just because Scott had found a way out of it the last time didn’t mean he’d be so lucky the next.

Stiles’s wandering had led him to Scott’s door, drawn like a magnet without even realizing it. There was a chance he was inside and would answer the door if Stiles knocked…no. It would be another intrusion. If Scott was ever going to talk to him again, he’d have to make the choice himself. Stiles pulled a bit of scrap paper out of his pocket and wrote a hasty note to shove under the door

_I’m sorry, I was a jerk. I want to still be friends if you want it too? I really am sorry. You know where to find me if you want to, I’ll stay away. – S_

It felt inadequate at best, and Stiles stared at Scott’s door like it could tell him how to make things better. Even if it could, he didn’t think it would want to, and he dragged his sorry butt down to the mess hall. Everything he ate tasted about as good as licking rusty pipes.

He spent the rest of the day in his room, trying and failing to pretend that he wasn’t watching the door. His efforts were interrupted every time he heard someone down the hall welcome a visitor, and all Stiles could do was sigh meaningfully into still air.

When someone finally knocked on his door, he tripped over his own feet in his haste, and there was Scott, glorious handsome and already wary Scott. His hands crossed over his chest, lips pursed and face pinched, and Stiles swallowed down the urge to whoop.

“Hi! I uh, I mean.” Stiles leaned against the door frame and very meaningfully ran a hand through his hair before letting his voice drop an octave. “ _Hello.”_

Scott looked completely unimpressed. “You’re serious about this?”

“Yeah! Of course I am, Scott. Come in, I uh, there’s not a lot of room but-” He held the door open and after a moment’s hesitation, Scott squeezed by him into the small rented room, crumpled note in his hand. “I am sorry, dude. I was just worried about you.”

“That’s the point, you don’t know me well enough to worry. Helping the refugees is  _my_  life, that’s my choice. The bar is your time or if I invite you back to my place. Enjoy that, Stiles. The rest of my life is mine.”

“You’re right.” The admission made Scott pause and Stiles pressed his advantage. “Maybe I should have trusted you more, but you’re my friend and I was scared when you jumped right into the middle of a riot. You’re right that I shouldn’t have just showed up where I wasn’t welcome. I was trying to impress you and it backfired, but you can’t just tell me not to worry about you either. You’re my friend, of course I’m going to worry.”

Scott furrowed his brows, hands twisting around the note. “You want to be my friend?” He asked like he didn’t believe it.

“Of course I do. I like you, I like spending time with you.”

Scott worried his lower lip in a way that was entirely too distracting, and when he cracked a smile it was far too small for Stiles’s liking. Then Scott took a risk.

“You just like me for my cooking.”

“Yes!” Stiles laughed out his surprise, and Scott stopped looking so uneasy. The spacer dropped into bed, bouncing on the creaking cot and patted the spot by his side. Scott approached him like he thought he would bite, but that just made Stiles smile harder, which in retrospect probably did not help the way he wanted it to. It didn’t matter though. Scott was here, and his room looked just that much brighter. With great effort, Stiles worked his face into something more solemn before he said, “But I’ve been thinking about what’s going on with the refugees. The missing people.”

Stiles didn’t know what to make off the guarded expression the bartender wore, but when he nodded his head, Stiles plowed on like he didn’t see it. “I think I can help.”

“Really.” Scott said flatly.

“I have a… specific skill set.” Stiles said without smiling. His pulse was steady, but it seemed so much louder now, ringing in his ears the way it did when he stared down the barrel of a photon pistol. “Tell me about the missing refugees.”

Scott laughed. It was that one Stiles didn’t like again, soft and far too world weary. “Tell me what you know. I’ll fill you in.

“Not much…” Stiles started, almost ruefully. “I know there are refugees and some go missing.”

“Well congratulations, you’re a bonafide expert.” Stiles’s surprise must have shown on his face, because Scott laughed at him once more. “They’re a transient community from all over the universe, Stiles. No one knows how many of them there are, not even themselves. Sometimes people leave just for the sake of leaving, but more come in every day.”

Scott shook his head, looking down at his hands. “I’ve been trying to figure this out for a while now, but I still don’t know exactly who’s missing, how they’re taken or when the abductions happen. I don’t even know when it started. Everything’s an estimation, but you can tell something’s wrong. Normally when I’m at the pantry, I meet a lot more people.”

Stiles nodded tersely. He’d figured this would be a problem. The vulnerability of the refugee population was what made this type of crime so easy. “I saw surveillance scanners when I came in. What’s the security system like around the tent camps?”

“Abysmal.” Scott said without hesitation. “You’d be lucky to find a scanner that works on any of the lower floors. The latest lead I’ve been following ups trying to match traffic to the port manifests to see if I can figure out a pattern of-”

“Wait, you have port manifests?” What type of bartender was he!? Sure, the docking bays at Alpha 16 were atrocious when it came to staying on the straight and narrow, but no one ever just threw away port manifests.

Scott just shrugged one shoulder. “A couple of the dock workers are friends of mine. I just asked really nicely and as long as that doesn’t get out, then no one gets in trouble.” 

Stiles’s estimation of Scott ratcheted up a few notches, that same ugly tendril of suspicion coiling through him. He wasn’t a trusting man by nature and for all Scott’s wide eyed generosity, there was something more to this bartender than met the eye. He was suddenly reminded that Scott had managed to notice his hidden optical tech when no one else had.

He filed the thoughts away to examine later. The innocent bartender might have some kind of past that brought him to a backwater like Alpha 16, it would explain a lot about why he was here, but who knew what sort of secrets he was hiding. Stiles was always good at collecting the clues, fitting the pieces together until he had the whole picture. It didn’t make sense yet, but he was determined to find out eventually. He just hoped he wouldn’t regret what he found.

“It would help if I could take a look at them. Maybe we can find some sort of correlation. At least we’ll be able to rule out certain ships. Do you think it’s a spacer or one of the residents on the station?”

Scott sighed heavily, hunching down in misery at just the thought. “I don’t know. The refugees are blaming the residents and I don’t even blame them. Alpha 16 was always a rough place to live, but it’s gotten worse and there’s been a lot of push back from the people who consider the station their home. They see the refugees as squatters at best. At worst, they accuse them of bringing in disease and crime. Many of the station’s original residents were human, most of the refugees aren’t. It’s caused a lot of tension.”

“Makes sense.” The Galactic Government wasn’t too kind on non-human alien worlds in their jurisdiction, they weren’t even keen on the ‘lesser’ classes of humans. The ones who’d modified their bodies with tech or bioengineering to survive in harsh worlds more easily. Stiles flexed his metal hand ruefully. “But what do  _you_  think?”

“It’s possible.” Scott admitted after a long pause. “I don’t want to think about it, but there might be enough hate on board that it could be one of us. I don’t know if that’s better than the thought of it being one of the spacers taking people off station.”

If it was one of Alpha 16′s residents, it was just a matter of waiting until the coast was clear to push a few corpses out into deep space. Stiles wasn’t speaking from experiences, but the strategy was textbook. Scott didn’t need to hear that. “Well, no need to jump to conclusions just yet. I gotta see those port manifests.”

Scott was very obliging. 

It didn’t do much good at all.

Scott had a modest tablet, far from ancient, but not something to write home about. It wasn’t going to do anything fancy, but it could bring up the documents he’d  _acquired_  (stolen, Stiles was willing to bet as he went over Scott’s explanation, but he might have just been projecting). The information jumped out at Stiles immediately.

“This is crap. This is all crap. None of it’s real.” Stiles wasn’t even disappointed. No one had time for bureaucracy on the outskirts of the universe, especially when credits were used to cut through red tape. Everyone wanted a slice of the action.

Scott quuirked a brow. “You can tell?”

Stiles snorted, gesturing at the hologram that hovered in front of him, magnifying the text so Scott didn’t have to hover so close. “Look here. There’s no way anyone would survive piloting a LWSS Buzzard. You’d run out on gas halfway to the nearest settlement, and seven passengers on an Infineon? You’d never get it off the ground.”

And on and on and on. Some ships were just two  _nice_  to be out in a dump like 16.

 

“You must be one Hell of a mechanic,” Scott mumbled absently. It was enough to make Stiles hesitate. The spacer might have expected the worst of Alpha 16′s staff, but Scott hadn’t sounded the least bit surprised at Stiles’s skill.

“Anyway…” He tailed off, fidgeting. “We still need eyes on the port.”

“Stiles, just how good of a mechanic are you?” Scott asked, more pointedly this time. “Because I think I have a plan.”

 

  
  


 

The answer was apparently ‘very good,’ not that Stiles ever doubted his skills. Most of the scanners around the docks were dummies anyway, the barest show of security in a place that prided itself on its anonymity. Business was never good if people were watching too closely. The ones that were broken he jury-rigged, directly the feed through Scott’s tablet and projecting the images up onto his viewscreen. Scott was impressed, he could see it in the way the other man’s smile teased along the corners of his mouth.

That made two times his mechanical prowess had saved Scott. Not that he was counting or anything, but the last time, there’d been one hell of a reward. The two of them sat on Scott’s couch, watching the silent videos for anything suspicious, though Stiles was more distracted by the feel of Scott’s feet wiggling under his butt where it was warm. The waiting and watching could take hours, if not days. At least it was the perfect excuse to spend time with Scott now that he was back in his good graces.

“I’ve gotta ask.” Stiles said, trying to ignore the way Scott was chewing his lip or how easy it would be to pin him back against the couch. He plucked a small puzzle box up from the side table. “What’s with all the toys? Are these the only things you own?”

“No, I have other stuff! Some other stuff. They’re gifts from all over the galaxy, sometimes friends of mine bring me something from their trips.”

He watched Scott carefully take the puzzle box from his hands, adding another piece to his picture of this man. The gifts, the stories he collected, the viewscreen usually set to some beautiful alien world. Scott wanted out of this dump as badly as anyone else.

“You know you can leave, right? You found me a job, you can probably get one on some freighter and just go, you know basically everybody. If you want to see what’s out there so badly, you could just go.” Stiles offered, but Scott just shook his head with a small smile.

“This is home, dude.”

Stiles quieted, thinking about a young boy who’d used that argument to hide his fears and threw it away at the first real chance he got. And everything that happened next.

“Things change.” He said, and pretended not to see the inquisitive glance Scott sent his way, but when Scott moved, Stiles moved with him, bringing them closer together, until Scott’s knee bumped against his side as Stiles leaned against him. He watched with something like satisfaction as inquisition slipped towards amusement, and Scott shifted, giving Stiles enough space to inch just a little closer. It felt reckless, and after everything, it probably was. Then Scott slipped his hand down Stiles’s shoulder, and Stiles had to swallow down his heart before it jumped through his throat.

He reached out before he could stop himself, leaning into Scott’s space and trying to make it his own, and Scott was right there, he could - completely miss his mouth and plant a soggy kiss on Scott’s jaw. Stiles jerked up abruptly, flushed embarrassingly, but Scott wasn’t look at him. His eyes were drawn to the screen.

Stiles turned to catch someone being dragged off screen and scowled through his embarrassment. “What…?”

Scott rewound the footage, but Stiles didn’t think it had anything to do with him asking.

Scott pointed at the screen, a blurry figure zipping across the bottom of the frame almost too fast to make out clearly. A blurry figure in bright yellow. Wherever the person was going, it wasn’t willingly and two large horned creatures following close behind.

“Whazzut? You think that’s something?” Stiles squinted. “Are you sure? Could be anything, we don’t want to just rush into-“

“It’s  _Liam_.” There was a note of panic in Scott’s voice and Stiles had to pause a moment before he remembered the name. That young Wolveen from the cafeteria that Scott had warned to stay out of trouble. If he slowed the image down, the figure could almost be him, but that still didn’t mean they should go running half-cocked against whatever was going on. If anything was going on at all.

“We could call the station security? That’s docking bay 12, they could probably be there in just a few, Scott? Scott!” He tipped over on the couch as the man beside him swept to his feet.

“We’re going now. If that’s Liam, I’m not going to let anything happen to him. No one else!” He looked more determined than Stiles had ever seen him and he sighed.

“I’m right behind you, buddy.” Damn, he really wished he’d brought the big guns with him this time. 

This could get ugly.


	4. Chapter 4

Scott was fast.

Stiles wanted to say he was in pretty good shape, but Scott tore through the station with a single-minded focus that left him gasping for breath and eating the bartender’s dust. The docking bay was almost identical to the image they’d been watching on the viewscreen. There had been almost no time delay between real-time and the feed capture, but Stiles didn’t have time to pat himself on the back. He needed to warn Scott before he got himself killed.

Except Scott was crouching behind a set of crates along the wall, in one of the few blind spots on Stiles’s camera. His movements were quick and precise, controlled as he scanned the immediate area and headed in the opposite direction of the site of the scuffle. There were others around the dock, but at a distance. No one had noticed them yet, and Stiles was in the more vulnerable position, blocking the entrance corridor.

Then Scott turned to Stiles, his brows furrowed in concentration and gestured for him quickly to follow his lead, and Stiles folded away his worries for another time.

His focus was drawn to a cargo ship that had seen better days, and looked about as ordinary as everything else in the hanger. From this angle, Stiles suspected it’d need its landing stabilizers needed a good scouring if their hatch was that covered in that much rust, but it looked like it could still fly.

Scott would not have liked to hear that. “We need to stop that ship from taking off.”

“Scott, hold on.” Stiles hissed, trying to keep him from getting them both attacked. “You don’t even know if they’re there. They-”

“They are.” 

“You  _can’t_  know that.”

“They are, Stiles, and if you can’t help me then back off. They’re in there, and they don’t have much time,” Scott snapped, impatience sharpening his tone.

Stiles bit back a snarl, taking in the tense line of Scott’s shoulders. He clenched his hand, feeling metal grind against metal where his knuckles used to be. “I’ll need twelve minutes.”

“I can do that.” There was something clipped and cold about Scott’s tone, and Stiles didn’t like it. It was like the sweet, gentle bartender was gone. He looked the same, but there was something in the way he moved that screamed danger. He was too still, too focused. There was a determination in him that almost made Stiles nervous. He buried the feeling and with a quick nod, they separated, Scott stepping out in front of the ship as the distraction and Stiles skulking unseen to the engine port.

He couldn’t see the fight, but the screams he heard weren’t Scott’s. There was the rapid sound of laser fire and Stiles nearly jumped out of his skin when the ship rocked with a loud bang, something heavy slamming against the hull. He pried the access panel free and tried to block out the noises, focusing on the heavily modified engine that looked more like a mess than anything that had the ability to fly.

“Sure, Scott. I’d love to help you Scott. There’s nothing better than putting myself in danger from some potentially cannibalistic crew to save a few refugees, Scott.” He muttered to himself as he grasped a large bolt with his metal hand and twisted. “I can totally disable a starship without any tools in under 15 minutes without getting killed, it’s easy. Do it all the time.” He was so stupid, why didn’t he just walk away? Scott was hot, but there were plenty of bleeding heart hotties out there to drown his sorrows in. He’d been done with things like this! He’d left! And here he was kneeling in a puddle of engine grease and who knew what else, buried up to the elbows in heavily shielded tech and trying to pry apart a ship with his bare hands.

“Hey!” One of the enormous horned creatures zeroed in on him, raising its weapon aggressively. “What are you doing over there?”

“Complimentary tune-up free with every 10,000 light years?” Stiles said breezily, but the creature just raised its weapon to fire. “Fine, you wouldn’t pass inspection anyways!” He slammed his prosthetic fist into the engine block, metal screaming and twisting from the blow.

It was a rush of old adrenaline that forced him to react before he could think. Even now, Stiles could blame Scott for everything, and very much wanted to, but an old friend had reared her head, calling him to do the impossible like she always had. Call her Adventure or Bravado or Danger, but Stiles couldn’t forget her. She didn’t always treat him right, and she always bit hard enough to draw blood, but she had Stiles counting down the seconds as he worked, and as heat surged around his arm, bending back cheap metal and burning through synthetic skin, he tasted victory with a smile.

Then the pressure sensors in his arm went nuts, and Stiles screamed. His would-be attacker screamed with him, backing away quickly as he brought all three of his hands up to protect his face. Stiles lunged at him, burying the smoldering remains of his prosthetic into his belly, gritting his teeth as it strained the connecting site on his shoulder, before Stiles jabbed his knee in the alien’s external lung.

He unburdened him of his phaser and rushed to find Scott, distantly aware of the screams of surprise echoing around them. If they’d been closer to the Galactic Galaxy’s sphere of influence, they’d have to worry about security personnel descending on them. Now, everyone at the port was only worried about getting their ships out of the line of fire.

“Scott!”

Stiles yelled, jogging around the ship, bracing his damaged arm as he went, the phaser held precariously against the smoldering stump. The service door had been blasted in. Apparently Scott had no trouble finding a way in.

He walked into a scene from a nightmare. Bodies were strewn across the floor, and for a moment, all Stiles could do was stare in shock and awe. Then the thief by his feet gasped, struggling to wake up and Stiles kicked him in the face. He wasn’t even slightly sorry. 

The ship echoed with the sound of photon blasts. The battle was still ongoing. 

_Scott!_

Stiles didn’t dare call out to him, but it wasn’t difficult to follow the sounds of combat to where they had Scott pinned. The bartender was breathing hard, fists smeared with red that dripped on the stained metal floor. Ugly black scorch marks burned into the walls from laser fire and a handful of young, chained refugees cowered for any cover they could find.

“Scott?”

Scott’s hand shot out, gesturing for Stiles to stop but he never took his eyes off the enormous, shaggy Captain of the ship that pressed the muzzle of a gun against Liam’s head. The young Wolveen squirmed in his captor’s grasp until the Captain shook him roughly and Liam went limp.

“If you move, I’ll put a hole in his head, understand?”

They didn’t answer, but Stiles saw how Scott’s lip curled in a vicious snarl, hands clenching down like he was planning out his next strike no matter how impossible the odds. “Let him go and you live through this.”

The Captain just laughed and ground the weapon against Liam’s temple until the young man cried out in pain. “I don’t think you’re in any position to make demands. The two of you aren’t our usual cargo, but I’m sure we could find buyers with bad taste.”

Scott’s head cocked and his posture eased slightly, dropping his hands by his side. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to happen. I always have a plan.”

“Oh? And what are you going to-AUGH!” The Captain’s shout was lost in a sweeping roar of fury. Refugees poured into the ship, banged against its hull, tearing the place apart with makeshift weapons and their bare hands. They pummeled the already fallen crew without mercy. There were too many of them to fight and the Captain’s arms were dragged down, a heavy pipe cracking against his skull as Liam was yanked away from him. 

Over the chaos, Scott glanced over at Stiles, giving him a weak half-smile.

It was like a jolt to his system, and that quiet little smile would stay with Stiles, even as the numbness of adrenaline faded and they were swept up into the mob that demanded vengeance and justice in equal measure.

They’d won, and victory did not feel like theirs alone.


	5. Chapter 5

There was music in the air, a light, silvery sound that seemed to resonate straight through to Stiles’s skull as an unfamiliar language that couldn’t quite on a human tongue sang with it. Stiles looked out at a glowing sunset, watching two moons start their trip across the sky to claim their place. He always thought that Scott’s apartment was the prettiest place on Alpha 16. Not just because Scott was sometimes naked there, too.

Right now, Scott fidgeted by his side. He looked like he was trying very hard not to look uneasy. Stiles appreciated the effort. “It’s…”

“Serviceable.” Stiles finished, readjusting his glove over the new prosthetic. He didn’t want to look at it either, but he needed it if he wanted to keep his job. The crew of the Behemoth was decent enough, as much as cargo crews this far out of regulated space could be, but he had no doubt they would drop him if he didn’t get a replacement. They still might. There were certain stigmas he was forced to live with, and it wouldn’t matter how well Stiles could say he worked, or how often he proved himself right. Yet he’d still be better than working directly under the Galactic Government’s scrutiny. 

“It’s all they got in my price range.” It still drained all of his savings from his first run with the Behemoth, and there was no reward from helping find refugees that most people didn’t want on the station to begin with. 

There were options on the market, less and less dependable on Alpha 16′s markets, but options nonetheless for those with credits. That never used to be Stiles’s problem. Rusted metal, outdated designs - none of it used to be. 

_Things change._

“Throw a synth skin on it, and it’ll be pretty enough to keep your food down around.”

“This is my fault.” Scott’s voice was small and he knelt beside Stiles, running his fingers gently over the rough edge where metal joined against flesh. “I dragged you into helping me. I’m going to save up my credits, I’ll help you get a better upgrade. There has to be something I can do.”

“It’s fine.” He pulled away from Scott’s touch, hating the flash of shame that followed. He used to be proud of his upgrades, now he just felt limited. It was functional, that was all that really mattered anymore. “I wanted to help you, this is good enough. Besides, I still finished those scanners. We won’t show up to tomorrow’s meeting empty handed.”

Danger, Bravado, or Adventure. Whatever her name was, she was never kind.

Stiles startled when Scott leaned in, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth, before he hesitantly whispered, “May I…?”

Stiles felt his hand on his metal wrist belatedly. The pressure sensors were subpar. His grip was unsteady, and he nodded at Scott, answering the tenderness in his eyes.

Gentle hands carefully unhooked the clunky prosthetic from his shoulders, soothing the irritated skin. Metal and circuitry fused with flesh and bone, linking the arm to his nervous system, but the sensitivity wasn’t the same. It wasn’t until Scott bent to press his lips against his scars that Stiles shivered.

“You don’t have to.”

Scott shushed him with a kiss, pulling their bodies together. Stiles finally surrendered, letting the tension drain from him and closed his eyes, relaxing against his friend. Tomorrow the walls would be back up, vulnerabilities hidden behind sarcasm and anger, but right now in Scott’s arms, he could let himself feel broken.

“We need to talk to the leader of the refugees tomorrow, but don’t worry about that right now. Let me take care of you. Stay the night, okay?”

“Okay.” The word came out as a sigh. “Okay.”

 

  
  


 

Stiles hadn’t needed his prosthetic to do his work. It made the process more convenient, but he was a mechanic. That didn’t change no matter what tools he had at his disposal. It was just a matter of finding another surveillance scanner to modify. Once he had a base to work with, everything else came easily. He’d spent nearly every waking moment tinkering. Stiles was working on a deadline. He was running out of shore leave.

More importantly though, they’d only one cut off one of the figurative Hydra’s heads. The criminals behind the abductions hadn’t been anyone of significance, just shameless smugglers willing to put credits above people’s lives. Stiles wasn’t unfamiliar with them or their work - or the motives that drove them. It was only a matter of time before they were replaced. Scott thought they could make a difference this way, and Stiles… was beginning to see that believing in Scott came too easily.

“You think I should put a bow on it?” Stiles mumbled, shaking the carrier that held his surveillance equipment and got an elbow in his ribs for his trouble. Scott shushed him without turning.

They were on the fringes of the refugee camp, in the food bank Scott used so often. It was as close to privacy as they could get, and Stiles caught Scott waving at Liam across the way. He lead a trio into the group. Two of them were Xkli'tn, and the third Kilpo.

The refugees on Alpha 16 came from all over the universe, but Xkli'tn made up one of the biggest populations. Their star system was among the closest. Their people had large, expressive eyes that took up most of their face, and wore thick veils that hung from the protrusions on their foreheads. On their home planet, they would have protected them from the harsh climate. The amber whorls along the edge of their veils marked them as community leaders.

Scott spoke up first, rising to greet them, and Stiles had to wonder just how many languages he spoke.

The elders offered their thanks, each in a different language, but they were restrained and wary. Even outsiders with good intentions were still outsiders, and that was a lesson they’d learned over many hard years. That sense of distrust was stronger now, their community attacked from the outside and fractured within, and while they were grateful, two humans would never be able to turn the tide.

That didn’t mean Scott didn’t try and Stiles had to admit, it was impressive to watch that sort of determination. He only hoped it wouldn’t blow up in their faces someday. Scott elbowed him again and Stiles offered up the gift. “I, uh…I repaired some of the cameras and surveillance equipment. That might help you keep an eye on your camp to make sure that nothing like this can happen again.”

The Xkli’tn gently took the carrier with a nod. “It may help, thank you.” He said in heavily accented Basic, and turned back to his people. Stiles felt like the elder had brushed them both off, two young foolish humans dragging more trouble to their doorstep and was about to protest with Scott collided against him, the rescued Wolveen almost tackling the bartender in a hug.

“Dude, you saved my life!”

Scott returned the hug as Stiles took a step back and rolled his eyes at the display. “You’re my friend, Liam. I’m going to do everything I can to help you.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Liam’s pointed ears flattened against his head, and Stiles didn’t think he imagined the way the Wolveen rubbed his cheek against Scott’s shoulder. He cleared his throat very loudly. They both ignored him.

“I want to,” Scott said, full of such earnestness that Stiles was embarrassed for him. “I’ve been talking to a few of the shopkeepers around the bar. I think they need some assistance at the water distribution outlet. It’s not a sure thing yet, but it looks good.”

Liam lit up, like a switch had been flipped under his smile and Stiles looked around for a hose to spray them apart.

“But it’ll be hard work,” Scott was quick to warn him. “If they do hire you, they’re going to expect you to pull your weight and then some. The pay won’t be great, and because… Well, they’ll probably be hard on you.”

“I’ll do it. A job is a job, and we need it right now.” Liam said confidently. “I won’t let you down, Scott.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, this is adorable. Everyone’ll do their job. Can we go now, Scott? I gotta oil this thing before I take off.” Stiles complained as flexed his metal hand, and this time, the bartender rolled his eyes. Scott ruffled Liam’s hair affectionately one last time, and Stiles only pursed his lips a little as he watched. He didn’t stop until Liam was out of sight.

“Don’t you ever get tired of playing hero?”

“It’s not going to fix things, but I can just help a little. Sometimes that’s enough, Stiles.”

Stiles shook his head and punched Scott gently in the shoulder. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

“There’s enough terrible things in the universe without being one of them.” Scott said simply, lacing his fingers with Stiles’s metal hand.

He just hummed as they made their way back from the camp and towards the lifts. As soon as they had a moment of privacy, he pushed Scott up against the wall and kissed him, swallowing down the yelp of surprise. “I’m gonna really miss you and your optimism.”

“Awww, Spacer. I didn’t know you cared.” Scott turned it into a gentle joke, deflecting anything too honest before it hurt them both. “You should get going before you miss your launch. The Behemoth isn’t going to wait around on you if you’re late.”

“Tell me you’ll miss me too?” The tone was teasing, but Scott tensed beneath his hands at the question.

“You know that we’re not-”

“Oh come on, I’m not asking for a ring or some confession. Tell me that you’re gonna miss hanging out with the best mechanic in the known universe who’s saved that perky butt of yours twice now. You know you need me, bro. Who else are you going to get to flush out your pipes?”

Scott finally laughed, grasping the offered escape. “You’re right, I’m going to miss the way Byex makes you sweat every time she shows you her fangs.”

“I was wrong. I take it all back. You’re a dick.”

He made to pull away, abut Scott just drew him back in, snickering into his mouth as he pressed up against Stiles, kissing him slowly. “One more, for the trip.”

It was a sweet goodbye, and as Stiles turned the corner, he was almost sure he heard Scott whisper at his back.

_I’ll miss you._

**Author's Note:**

> You can find Dans's awesome fics [here](http://nevertrustastilesthing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can read Rune's stuff [Here](http://fightingforthepack.tumblr.com/) and find her on tumblr at [ Runicscribbles](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com)


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